


plain black coffee (with a side of sugar)

by meridianline



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, Skam OTP tbh, i love these two, sana deserves every happiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 09:11:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10693938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meridianline/pseuds/meridianline
Summary: He's Elias' cool friend, the one who gets all the girls. There's no way he's interested and Sana's not a girl for pipe dreams. So why can't he just leave her alone?Yousef catches Sana, after the Facebook add.





	plain black coffee (with a side of sugar)

**Author's Note:**

> I was over the moon that Sana is the lead the season. And now I'm more thrilled that she gets a love story, and that it's with honest-to-god cinnamon roll Yousef Acar. 
> 
> It's just such a relatable thing to me - liking a guy and having these moments that you really, really wish mean he likes you back.
> 
> This is a bit of a ramble, but... enjoy & let me know what you think! X

Sana has an after-school habit, a secret one. Yet another thing to add to the pile of things she doesn’t tell anyone, a pile that’s grown exponentially since she somehow ended up joining Vilde’s merry band of russebuss misfits.

If she’s got an afternoon free of tutoring Isak, or counselling Noora, or dealing with yet another of Vilde’s harebrained schemes, she’ll sweep straight out of school and not stop until she’s reached her absolute favourite coffee shop.

It’s a freezing April afternoon. Way too cold for literally anyone else to think about anything other than heading straight home. But Sana has a free evening and she’s tired and she’s so ready to forget about how everything’s suddenly got so much more complicated than ever before.

All she wants is a cup of the best ever Turkish coffee and a break from thinking about boys with kind eyes and annoyingly floppy hair who send thoughtful memes right before her very important chemistry lesson. Is that really too much to ask?

The cafe is nothing special, but it’s a relief all the same when she wrenches open the door and sees the familiar peeling green formica-covered tables sitting empty beside its grimly unwashed windows.

She doles out her cash, grabs her order, and steps back out into the freezing air, ready to take her first sip when ---

“Sana?”

She stops with a start, coffee splashing down the front of her new jacket. She knows without looking up exactly who it is and why this is just about the opposite of the relaxing end to her day she’d envisioned. Seriously. So much for Vilde’s ‘secret’.

“Sana?” Yousef says again, and she finally glances up. “You okay?”

“What are you doing here?” It's a little abrupt but she’s still off-kilter. Frankly, she’s always off-kilter around Yousef.

“Uh. I’m grabbing a coffee?” He flashes his trademark shy smile, and then, as if he really wants to kill her, he runs a hand through his hair. Gah, she can feel her heart squeeze. So. Not. Fair.

“Are you walking back to yours now?”

She nods.

“Great. Wait for me, I’ll walk with you.”

With another quick grin, he slips inside the cafe before she has a chance to open her mouth. She has no choice but to stand outside, hands tight around her rapidly-cooling cup, waiting for that boy to come out and begin ‘who knows what’ all over again.

From hidden smiles across the living room while her brother and his friends fought over Fifa, to accidental hand-brushes when passing each other cups of tea. To a brief sleepy 1am conversation they’d shared in her kitchen a month or two ago, when she’d had a particularly grueling essay deadline and he’d been… who knows.

It’s a pipe dream, she just has to keep telling herself that. Make sure she really believes it.

He’s Elias’ _cool_ friend, the guy who gets all the girls, always has the great hair. The one who once saw her throw up all over Elias’ bedroom when she had the flu aged 10, who knows that she’s secretly afraid of being at home alone, and that she likes her tea with no milk and a spoonful of honey.

She’s had a crush on him so long it’s almost a habit now; the way her stomach flips when he’s around and her eyes always manage to find his. But she can’t get her hopes up. She is not delusional. She is not Vilde.

And yet… and yet… the moments keep on piling up… If she’s really honest with herself, she too far gone to get a grip now.

“Okay,” Yousef emerges from the cafe once more clutching a coffee and a brown paper bag, “You ready?”

She takes a sip and smiles.

They begin walking in silence. She can hear the rustle of the bag in his hand, swinging inches from hers. It’s only 5 minutes back to hers but she’s already feeling the weight of this. Is _this_ a moment, she wonders, or just another in a long line of misunderstandings?

“How does it feel?” He finally asks, as they turn down a side street.

“How does what feel?”

“Being my Facebook friend?”

She rolls her eyes. “Life-changing.” A pause. “I never knew you did parkour… onto bins.”

“Ha! You looked through my profile pictures?”

Damn it. “Had to check your profile was up to scratch, you know, with my usual Facebook friend standard.”

“So? How did I measure up?”

She takes another sip, pretends to think. “Eh, alright. 6/10.”

He laughs, then glances at her with one of his sideways looks. “I looked through your profile pictures too.”

Her breath catches, mid-sip. This has _got_ to be a moment. Whatever it is, she already knows she’ll turn it over again and again tonight, ad in-fucking-finitum. The pause stretches.

“And?”

“Not bad, not bad. No parkour so not as good as mine. But, uh, plus points for basketball and dimples.”

“Dimples?”

He ducks his head down, looking at the bag in his left hand. She can’t quite tell, glancing at him from her periphery, but she can sort of see his cheekbones going ever-so-slightly red.

“Yeah, you know. You’ve, um, you’ve got dimples. When you smile. It’s just… it’s a Facebook thing. Gets more likes.”

“Uh huh.” They’re almost at hers. God, she’s enjoying this. “A Facebook thing… right.”

They stop outside her house and he turns to face her with a full-on grin. She doesn’t want this to end.

“Do I get points for khaleesi?”

“Points?”

“Sana points,” He doesn’t seem to notice that he’s stepped in closer; her head tilts up slightly. “I’ll cash them in whenever I need a short girl who’s good at basketball to help me out.”

“So… basically anytime you play basketball?” She knows she’s supposed to be smirking, but it’s definitely just a straight up smile now.

“I’m not _that_ terrible at basketball.” Were his eyes always this sparkly? “Just sometimes.”

“Yousef, I’ve never seen you make a basket.”

“I’m good at defense!”

“Uh huh.” She doesn’t think they’ve ever been alone for this long, just them. But it’s sort of exactly how she always thought it would be. As she stands there facing him on the otherwise-empty street, the world seems to narrow to just the two of them. She wonders if maybe he’s imagined their conversations like this too.

Then suddenly, the moment’s ruined by a burst of music coming from his pocket -

_“...I wake up feeling like you won't play right, I used to know, but now that shit don't feel right…”_

He wrenches his gaze from hers, fumbling for his phone.

“Halla?” He answers, turning slightly away. “Sorry, sorry. I’ll be there soon. Yeah I know. Okay. No, no, I’m just leaving school. Is Elias there yet? Be with you in 10…”

He slowly puts his phone away and turns back to face her, looking sheepish as hell. The spell is broken.

“Sorry. I… I didn’t realise. The boys are at the gym.” His hands are in his hair again. He’s nervous. “I forgot.”

“Okay.”

“It’s just, I thought they were at your house.”

“I know.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t move. “ It’s… it’s nice to see you. Sana, I-”

The end of the sentence doesn’t come. She gives it a few seconds, then gives up.

“Go.” Her hands shoo him away. “You don’t want to be late.”

Without waiting for him to go, she heads for her door, reaching deep into her bag to grab the key. Time to get back to reality. As she finally gets a hold on what she thinks is her keychain, she feels a light tap on her shoulder.

“Sorry, I meant to say-” He’s back, now slightly out of breath. “This is for you.”

Something is shoved into her hand then he disappears swiftly down the road, not waiting for a reply. She's left holding the paper bag he’d exited the coffee shop with. With a curious warmth blooming in her chest, she reaches in and gently lifts out the object inside.

It's a small, delicately iced cookie in the shape of a crown.

She knows. She just knows it now. From the very tips of her toes, to the tastebuds tingling on her tongue as she savours the sugary icing: Yousef Acar, the handsome hip-hop dancing hot-shot best friend of her big bro, likes her.

And it feels fucking amazing.

 


End file.
